


Expectation in an Envelope

by somegunemojis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Revolution, Franco-Prussian War, Gen, German unification, Historical ish, Letters, M/M, Modern Day, Schleswig Wars, Spanish Civil War, WWII, some of these are a little romantic so u will have to forgive him, this is literally just a series of letters Prussia has written to people throughout the years, wwi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somegunemojis/pseuds/somegunemojis
Summary: Let love be the gravestone that lies upon my life,--Anna AkhmatovaLetters from 300+ years to friends, lovers, and enemies. Sometimes the lines between the three are distinct, and sometimes they are not.
Kudos: 3





	1. 22 April, 1764

**Author's Note:**

> Not that it matters but this Prussia's name is Rainer Gersten instead of Gilbert. As always I don't care how anyone feels about that, it's just my personal preference. Clarifications on names will be at the beginning of each chapter. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Alexei refers to a St. Petersbug that doesn't belong to me in this letter. This is just post-signing of the Russo-Prussian alliance.

22 April, 1764  
Language: Russian

Alexei, 

It is my hope that this letter finds you in fair health. You did not seem to be faring well when we left but with any luck the turning weather will bring some color to your cheeks. I am writing to thank you for hosting me along with the diplomats for the duration of the deliberations of this peace treaty and to express my gratitude for Panin’s support throughout this which I hope you may pass on to him. 

I don’t know if you know this about me but I am not naturally adept at diplomacy, and his patience with both the diplomats and myself is greatly appreciated and something I will credit to you even though I believe the man is originally of Gdansk. Do tell him not to fret about his accent, it is only that I have quite a sharp ear. 

I am under no illusions as to how long this alliance will last because it will last until it is no longer useful to one of us and the other shall be left in the wind. I would very much like it if I could come back to Saint Petersburg before that happens as I have never in my life seen a finer city. The skyline made me wish I had a shred of artistic talent in my body, and seeing the ballet with you, hearing the orchestra, it is truly an experience I shall never forget. 

In return I think it is only fair to invite you to Königsberg though I almost fear it will not hold a candle to the splendor you are used to. I would love to show you my city in return for the hospitality you have shown me, and break bread with you over my table. 

Whatever our uncertain future holds, I will hold the memories we now share close and I shall pray for you and your health. Please take care, and let me know if you are ever in need of anything. God be with you. 

Yours,

RG


	2. 29 January, 1777

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boredom can build friendships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelia refers to America in this chapter

29 January, 1777  
Language: English

Amelia,

We have just received news of the victory you and yours took at Trenton against the lousy and drunk Hessians. I am writing to congratulate you with great excitement, partially because I loathe the British almost as much as I loathe the Hessians and partially because I find myself quite proud of you and have some exciting news. I find the story of the underdog to be compelling, and seeing as we are not currently at war in Europe for once I am being allowed to travel across the Atlantic for the first time in my life with an odd fellow called von Steuben. Baron von Steuben has some interest in assisting your forces in military matters, and I must confess I am deeply and dangerously bored so I am tagging along. 

I fear I will be next to useless when I first arrive as I get dreadfully seasick and have never been on a voyage that lasted longer than a few weeks, but I have confidence I will have my land legs back in short order. Von Steuben speaks very little English and thus I am to serve as his translator and his guide. We are beginning preparations to leave in the next few days and when the Royal Navy fails to sink our ship I will hopefully see you when we meet land in a few months. 

Democracy. Revolution. How exciting. You are on a path that is yet uncharted in my world and I commend you for your bravery and your drive. You will know victory and glory, but these things do not come without a price. My hope for you is that you do not learn every lesson the hard way. I pray the taste of victory never turns to ash on your tongue. At the end of it all, whether this great experiment fails or not, I can only wish for you to stand tall with the knowledge that you do not regret it. 

I will see you in a few months, my dear. In the meantime at least pretend to try and stay out of trouble and make sure you keep me updated on whatever trouble you have gotten into when I arrive. I will pray for your health and safety.

Yours,

RG

P.S. I will be bringing you some teas when I arrive. Please try not to take offense, it is only chamomile. To steady the nerves.


	3. 15 December, 1848

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving your cousin a horse instead of a pony for Christmas, and other ways to piss off your fellow Germanic states.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilli is a Liechtenstein OC, and Roderich obvs is Austria.

15 December, 1848  
Language: German

Lilli, 

Allow me to convey my sincerest apologies for being unable to make my way to you for Christmas this year, first and foremost. Though Roderich and I are technically allies, the war for Schleswig drags on and I am being held in suspense over when the next battle shall be fought. I told Roderich I was going to purchase you a Trakehner of fine pedigree to make up for my absence and frankly I thought he was going to end our alliance right then and there, so of course you will be receiving her within the next few weeks after receiving this letter. 

She is out of my own mare, though many generations removed from her now and she will make a fine companion and riding horse as she is extremely intelligent and obedient. She is also quite athletic so you may use her for whatever nefarious acts you get up to when us wolves are out playing. 

As for the war: I would say it is child’s play but apparently none of the rest of our useless brothers and sisters and cousins have half the skill in battle that I do, and I find I quite resent them for it. Forgive me for being so uncharitable, but I don’t think this cursed “German Confederation” joke and all of its little states could find their ass with both hands. It’s almost humiliating to me that it’s taken me so long to crush all of them, since they apparently can’t handle a couple thousand Danes. I am quite irritated. 

Please know that I am safe and happy, as most of my forces are being kept on reserve while the rest of them fight it out– I suspect they fear that I will not give up a territory I take and they may be right about that. On Christmas Eve I will light a few candles and pray, and then I shall wash up and see about going to midnight mass. Whether or not I will find one is rather in the air as we are in a warzone, but if not perhaps I will hold my own. Do you think God would be angry with me for leading one even though I am no longer a priest? I promise I remember all the words. 

Though I am not there for Christmas this year you will see me again so soon it will be like I was never gone at all. Please continue to write as your letters bring me great joy in these times of irritation. I pray for your joy and health and safety, and wish you a happy Christmas. 

Yours, 

RG

P.S. Allow me the indulgence of reminding you that if you never need anything of me, you need only ask it and I will do everything in my power to see it done.


	4. 17 October, 1864

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warning, because sometimes you just accidentally menace a Danish colony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fannar refers to an Iceland OC.

17 October, 1864  
Language: German

Fannar,

I confess that as far as reputations go mine is probably among the worst you may have heard of, especially now. And as I am writing this I am realizing that you may not know how to read in German. Perhaps you will be curious enough to get a hold of a translator and if that is the case I shall commend you. I wish I had the skill and knowledge necessary to write to you in your own tongue but frankly I am unsure if you can read at all or how well that would be received. I mean no offense to you in any case. 

I write to you in the middle of October as we pack up the last of the front in Schleswig to go home. The war was effectively ended in August and I suspect by the time this letter reaches you it will be official. We have won. I am not writing to gloat. I write to you with a warning I feel your brother would never heed from me: you are on your own. Sweden-Norway abandoned Denmark to its fate, and damned you right with them. England humiliated itself trying to mediate and failing to bring an end to the violence, and Denmark proved itself unable to resist the might of the German forces. 

The world is a cold and empty place when you realize you are without powerful allies. You may rest assured knowing that you will have no quarrel with me at the very least but in these rapidly changing times it would be wise to remember that at the very end you will have only yourself to rely on. I wish you luck and pray for your health and your wisdom in the coming years. God have mercy on us all.

Yours,

Rainer Gersten


	5. 20 October, 1866

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticking it to Austria in the name of freedom and unification. And a laugh, always a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evelina and Feliciano are N. Italy.  
> Alessio is a Florence/C. Italy OC.   
> Vincenzo Maria is a Naples/S. Italy OC.

20 October, 1866  
Language: Italian, Florentine dialect

Evelina, 

I write to congratulate you on the successful liberation of the great city of Venice from Austrian rule as well as to wish you a smooth and peaceful transition into the greater unified Italy. Please remind Alessio that he owes me something incredibly valuable, and the next time you see Feliciano and Vincenzo Maria I would very much like it if you beat them up, just a little. As a favor to a friend. 

I must confess my general and unfortunate ignorance in diplomatic matters but it is my understanding that some of my less savory little stunts I pulled in the north drew the majority of Napoleon’s ire my way so you may rest assured that as of right now you remain mostly out of the madman’s warpath. Still I find it prudent to caution you that simply because he has given you Venice on a pretty little silver platter, this does not make France your ally. Nor does the fact that I assisted you make me your ally. The world is cold and I am about to rip his armies to shreds within the next decade, so I would recommend sticking to your wars of unification and holding off on trying to grab any power in Europe until after the dust has settled there. 

That being said, please do call on me if you ever find yourself in need of assistance with Austria. I had such fun marching on Vienna as I always do. Though, between you and me, I doubt his little empire will be much longer for this world and thus I would be surprised if they decided they wanted to try and take Venice back. 

With this letter I am sending a dagger as a little unofficial sign of what I can only hope to be many future alliances to come with you and yours as a strong, united Italy. I will waste no more of your time and I wish you a long and prosperous rule. You are as ever in my prayers and I am as ever in your service.

Yours,

RG


	6. 15 December, 1868

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peace offering that means little to nothing to anybody but them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cvijeta is a Croatia OC

15 December, 1868  
Language: German

Cvijeta, 

It is my hope that this letter finds you well even if this is only in comparison to how you have been in the past few centuries. With the settlement things should be calming down at least a little bit especially considering the Austrians have a million fires to put out as of right now. I cannot begin to fathom the complicated politics that come with being a part of such a massive empire. Perhaps some day we shall get together and you can tell me all about it. 

I must tell you that most of the time I only wish to speak ill of Austrians. 

As always, if you are rather unlucky then you shall be seeing me soon. I am mailing an interesting flower that I found and pressed in Holland some number of months ago and I hope it makes the journey well enough. If you ever get the opportunity to travel there then I must warn you against it as the weather is abysmal and the land is damp. I got a terrible rattling cough when I was there that I have yet to fully shake. Go to Liechtenstein instead as it is a delightful little place. Good luck in your endeavors and may you be out from under the thumbs of a declining empire soon enough. 

Yours,

RG


	7. 19 July, 1870

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Declarations of Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francis is obvs France ty

19 July, 1870  
Language: French

Francis, 

I write to you on the eave of a declaration of war between our nations. Though I confess that the last time we spoke in person I was quite hopeful of seeing you again soon under finer circumstances, I may also tell you I quite look forward to meeting you on the battlefield if God permits it. I have missed you terribly and if the price of laying eyes on you once again is my own blood then let it be so. 

Oftentimes I think about the whorehouse in Prague. That is hardly appropriate of me to say so I suppose I must beg your forgiveness but I look back on those few days quite fondly and often. How amusing you would find it if only you knew how recurrently I dream of your hands and their gentleness and their cleverness, and in the most inopportune moments and places. Listening to Bismarck drone on sometimes provides the perfect metronome for daydreaming. Surely he would find a way to put an end to me if he knew despite my usefulness to him that I long for the warmth of your touch. 

Once I had a dream about you. You were standing in a field of cornflowers and you had a crown of them perched on your head. They matched your eyes and you looked quite pleased with yourself standing in the warm sun like you had just won some great victory. I’m quite certain I have never seen you like that but I imagine or hope rather that some day I will. There will never be an end to war as long as we live, Francis, so you will have to forgive me for my fanciful notions of the little moments of peace I still guard fiercely in my heart. 

I find myself miserably off topic once more. Tomorrow I am marching with the armies that I will fight and die alongside. Wishing you good luck in your endeavors would reflect rather poorly on me though I find myself praying for your safety anyway. Do not mistake these things I have told you as a weakness, because as fanciful as I find being ruled by love to be I do not and never have had that luxury. If we meet on the field I will feel joy upon seeing your face once more in the same breath that I will shred you as this is what is in my nature. 

Lastly I would just like to tell you that this war between us is nothing personal. You have your empire, and I will have mine. Bonne chance, mon ami. 

Yours, 

RG


	8. 1 October, 1917

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions, but not really the kind anyone wants to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schmeltzer is Roderich's (Austria's) surname.

1 October, 1917  
Language: German

Schmelzer,

I know not what you have been up to nor why I write this letter. Perhaps it is boredom, or something more maudlin. I confess I am unaware as to whether you are participating in the violence at all, or whether this letter will reach you. I like to imagine you sit at your piano all day and occasionally attend meetings where your people do not listen to you before they put you back in your cage. I mean that sincerely: I would not wish the experience of the front lines on anyone, not even you. 

If you have been, then I apologize for the complaints this letter will contain, as they would not be anything new to you. War has changed, or perhaps I have. Machine guns, trenches, and that damnable gas… I truly have never seen a thing like it. I wish I didn’t have the stomach for all this. Some men retch at the sight and smell of corpses still, can you imagine?

Last week I saw nine men fall because they couldn’t pull their masks on fast enough, clawing at their faces and shrieking as though they were possessed by a devil. The horse we used to pull artillery went down without a damned sound, and frankly I don’t know which of those was worse. The horse was left where she fell but dragging the men’s corpses for the field hospital was terrible. It felt like a thousand kilometres slogging through knee-deep mud and barbed wire, vision limited by the masks. It felt like I never took my eyes off their faces which were twisted with slack fear, blistered, bleeding. One foot in front of the other, you know. I’m quite sure they could have started shelling us and I wouldn’t have even noticed so focused was I on the boy I was carrying. There was nothing special about it either. It happens every day, to anyone. 

Truthfully I am laid up in a hospital right now. I took exception to a Canadian fellow trying to torch a machine gunner’s nest with a flamethrower and caught some of the fire up my back and neck only a few days ago. The pain is indescribable but the nurses have been kind enough to keep me quite comfortable. I must tell you: I thought I was familiar with the sensation of being set ablaze– it was attempted often enough in my early years, you know how it is– but I have never felt anything like that. It tasted of God’s Wrath. 

The hospital is abysmal too and I don’t just say that because I am miserable and bored. The injured cry in the night and so far there are four of our men who have died from the flu. Two of them have got the pneumonia and bad cases at that so I guess that their chances of pulling through are very slim. I pray a lot. I feel like I hadn’t prayed in years like I had forgotten how but I remembered if only to pray for these poor souls that suffer and die for the pride of rich men. 

I loathe this. I am tired of it. I wish this thrice-damned war would end and I suspect it will to our detriment. We have a year left in us at most. If you find yourself asking why I would write to you like this you may blame the morphine or the pain. I cannot be so frank and hopeless with anyone else, and much as I hate to admit it you may come the closest to knowing the truth of me as anyone that will still speak to me. 

I have complained. The mail carrier will come soon and who knows the next time I will be lucid enough to pick up a pen again. Please believe me when I say I hope you are taking care of yourself whether you find yourself at the end of a rifle or not. I will pray for you as well as best as I am able. 

Yours,

RG


	9. 8 February, 1937

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devotion comes in many forms. And it tears you apart every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antonio refers to Spain. 
> 
> Both Antonio and Rainer are with the Republicans and not the Nationalists. No fascists.

8 February, 1937  
Language: Spanish

Antonio,

This letter finds you in trying times I already know. It feels like politics are paced far faster nowadays than they ever had been before, and I know that whatever happens to you, the rest of Europe is not far behind. 

If you will forgive me for doing away with the pleasantries, I fear for you. I was sitting in my home this morning staring into the fire and I could not shake the chill in my bones, nor the thought of what you must be suffering. Would it be of any use to you I would carve my heart from my chest and offer it to you still beating in my hands but I know in these times the only use for me that you will have is of my rifle. I tell you, I will give whatever you ask of me. Germany is lost to so many and a fair amount of my comrades have left and joined the International Brigades if only to avoid a hail of Nazi bullets. I should like to follow them but I will not do so without your blessing. 

I will not regale you with tales of Berlin for most of the tales I have now are depressing and secretive, though some day when things settle down once more I must insist you come and experience some of the gay bars once we’ve succeeded in putting an end to Hitler and his terror-inspiring filth. It is all I can hope for as it will mean that you and I emerge from this climate relatively unscathed whether it is in one year or ten or twenty. All these things pass and we will not live in such trying times. 

Do you remember the winter you came to Berlin? It feels like centuries ago. I know that I teased you terribly about all the snow but your wonder at it was nearly childlike and I knew not how to react to it other than with some amount of scorn. I must tell you I understand now. I understand why you squealed and stuck your tongue out as though you had never seen it before or as if you had dreamed of it for centuries even though that terrible cold had frozen your joints into fierce points of pain. I used to think you were absolutely mad standing there with your arms open to the sky as though you were greeting God with every flake that fell and kissed your cheeks. But I understand now. I have held that memory of you close and I have thought about you often– in other settings as well, but for some reason my mind always returned to that one until it is well worn. We got into so much trouble that winter and all of it was deserved.

I just wanted to tell you that this is how I think of you: you are full of love and joy even for the things that pain you. Whether this is true or not it is what I have seen of you and I can only hope that it remains true. I remember you limping around in the snow with that silly grin on your face and I think about how rude I was to you when you laughed about it and I want to kiss you because the thought of that evening has gotten me through more cold and lonely winter nights than I would care to admit. I wish you were not in any pain at all but we are not lucky enough to live in uninteresting times and so the best thing I suppose I can wish for you is that you do not let these struggles kill your heart. 

Perhaps I am only wishing this for selfish reasons. Here is another confession: your love has had more influence on me than I would care to admit as well. I find myself trying to picture how you might react in certain situations and mimicking accordingly and though I must say it rarely improves the situations it always proves to be quite entertaining at the very least. And so I suppose I should thank you for teaching me a little bit of what it is to be more than what I was made to be.

I will let you go as I am sure you are tired of reading me drone on about the past. Antonio I hope you will allow me to come see you at the very least, and if that is not the case I suppose I can only hope that you will allow me the indulgence of praying for you. I hope that at least is something that brings you comfort. You are often in my thoughts and always in my prayers. Please write back to me soon as I miss you terribly. 

Yours,

RG


	10. 9 December, 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't make me beg, I'll do it on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.J. Jones (Alvin James) is 2p America.

9 December, 1941  
Language: English

Herr A.J. Jones, 

It is my hope that this letter finds you as well as you can be. You may not know me as we have never met but my name is Rainer Gersten. I was greatly saddened to hear of the loss it took for the US to get involved in this war, but I must admit that I am terribly relieved to hear that your people will be involved in both the Pacific and European theaters. You may not have expected to hear that from me of all people but we truly live in strange times. 

I dare not go into detail on paper with the horrors this war has brought to the continent and the world lest I am never able to still my pen again. If you spent any time on the front in the first Great War you may think you know what you are getting into but I must warn you that you absolutely do not. There is no way for me to describe it to you without sounding like a blathering madman and I know not how much you have heard about what is happening here or whether you believe there is any truth to it. It feels like what is happening here is happening everywhere and it feels like it will never stop. I apologize for being so grave and maudlin and vague. I do not quite understand the purpose with which I am attempting to send you this letter myself, much the same as I hardly understand anything anymore. That is not your burden to bear. But the things that you witness here shall be a burden you will carry with you for the rest of your life. I hope it is the only burden of its ilk that you will ever carry, but I know the United States are not without their sins. 

I am sorry. 

I suppose I am writing to tell you that I have abandoned the shackles of servitude to the monstrosity my nation has become and refused to play a part in their atrocities. I am in Poland now working with the partisans here and I am doing what little remains within my power to destroy everything that I spent centuries trying to build. You have little care for my numerous regrets and so I shall not bore you, but please know this: I am terrified of what is still to come. 

I beg of you to search me out if you have a need for me. We move around quite a bit but I am in the company of a Polish doctor by the name of Starostka, and should you have any need of intelligence or surveillance or even smuggling people or weapons, I will do everything in my power to serve your purpose faithfully. Thank you for your time. I will pray for our swift and decisive victory, though I don’t have much hope for it. God be with you.

Yours,

RG


	11. 29 April, 1945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear of death means nothing anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vincenzo Maria is a S. Italy OC, courtesy of Khan. You can find them over at https://archiveofourown.org/users/napuleh/pseuds/napuleh
> 
> Also, I wrote a fic about the Polish doctor mentioned below, if you're curious:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517202

29 April, 1945  
Language: Italian

Vincenzo Maria, 

First and foremost I hear congratulations are in order: if I have heard the truth of it and Mussolini is in fact dead then the world is far better for it. I hope it’s as true as the fact that he was apparently strung up in the streets though I admit the pleasure of hearing that would be entirely self-serving. I hope the sight of it made you sick and I hope you do not take that in the wrong way. 

I have missed you terribly as an ache in my chest and my head and hands and in the back of my teeth. I will not lie to you and say I think of you all the time just as I will not lie to you and say I rarely think of you at all. It seems like you strike me in the little things; the first bit of fresh, ripe fruit I ate in months last fall made me think of standing barefoot in the dark earth with you picking grapes and eating so many that my stomach ached for days after. We came upon a well in our travels and I washed my hair and face and hands in a bucket and the water was cold but if I closed my eyes I could pretend we were sharing a bath again. A small dog bit my fingers when I fed him some scraps and that made me think of you as well. He wasn’t half starved or anything like that– I believe he was just an asshole.

I will not lie to you and say that these thoughts of you are all that keep me going through the painfully cold nights in the vast forests and fields of Poland. I am filled with glorious purpose, or whatever nonsense they used to fill my head with then they wound me up and turned me loose on my enemies. Perhaps this feeling is less glory and more of a clarity. For the first time in my life I think I have chosen what I believe to be right and good all on my own and I know that I have chosen correctly. One final nail in the coffin, one final decision to put an end to all of the decisions that led me to where I am today. I wanted to go down fighting and thrashing like a wild animal because that is all I have ever known but as the war draws to a close and it looks like victory is assured and yet I still live, I fear I will have to muster some calm and silence myself and take to an execution with dignity. The winters in Poland have been so cold that I may be mad with it. I feel like every day that I wake up leaves me colder and perhaps one day I will wake up and be carved from stone so in a sense I do not wake up at all. Thoughts of you have not been the only things that keep me going, but I will confess to you that they make some burdens easier to bear. 

I must tell you something else but I will keep it brief so as to not waste your time: I am a goddamned fool. I fell in love with a man in Berlin in 1929. He was Polish and he was in the city studying to be a doctor. Things went to hell. He went back to Poland when Hitler came to power and I clung to Berlin as long as I could before I fled in the opposite direction. It seemed like a miracle when I saw him again after the war began and not just because he kept a bunch of partisans from shooting me as a spy. We worked together closely. I loved him so fiercely I thought I might be able to tear the world apart with my own hands but as always my ego got the best of me and the world ended up tearing me apart instead. He froze to death early January, 1943. I feel his loss like a limb. I ache with it every day. His name was Konrad and I loved him and lost him.

Perhaps there’s no point of me telling you any of this. I feel as though I am afraid I have nothing to say to you at all though I could have sworn over the years it’s been since I’ve picked up a pen to write you I have surely thought of no less than a hundred thousand things that I wanted to tell you. You feature heavily in my thoughts, and my prayers, and my dreams. Just the other day I dreamed you were being burned on a pyre but you didn’t make a sound and last night I dreamed that you took my face in your hands and ran your thumbs over my cheeks and you watched me. You were so close that I thought I could smell you and when I woke I was alone but there was something in the air that reminded me of you so strongly I thought I might choke on it. There was frost on my eyelashes that morning but I still felt warm.

I will tell you one more thing, I think. I don’t know if I shall ever see you again, if you even feel inclined to try. My future is more uncertain and unstable than it’s ever been before, and if I make it to the end of the war I will surely not last much longer past it. I do not mean to alarm you with this information, I just thought you might want to know. Many mistakes led me here but the final choice I made was my own and I made it with bravery and wisdom and a love and kindness that I like to think I borrowed from you, if you could ever believe such a thing to be true. Perhaps at the end my thoughts will not be of you, or they will not only be of you, but I think if they were I wouldn’t mind too terribly. 

I beg of you only one thing: please be careful. I hope it still means something that I am praying for you. 

Faithfully yours, 

RG

P.S. What I meant when I said I had hoped the showing of his corpse made you sick is this: if you had a strong stomach you would not be you. I would be greatly saddened to hear it if you became accustomed to such needless violence because… well I don’t really know. It just doesn’t seem right.


	12. 24 December, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concern for your person is not allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilechka is a diminutive form of Lilia, for Lily, an East Berlin OC.

24 December, 2009  
Language: German

Lilechka,

It’s the evening before Christmas, but it’s quite hard to realize this. I’ll just sort of skip this year and we’ll celebrate twice as much next year. I stayed in a fine hotel last night– the moldings were all gilded, and their mirrors quite large. May do so again tonight, though I admit it was quite a fright to see myself moving about in the dark in the reflections of everything. It’s funny how much a building can mean. This is the first hotel I’ve been in since my arrival back on the continent. It is quite strange to return here, it feels like I picked up the reflex to smile when I was in America, and the woman at the desk seemed glad to see me but she did not smile back. Quite an awkward situation I put her in, I’m afraid. I digress.

I wrote to tell you that I hope you have a happy holiday and that you don’t worry too much about me. I’m really quite all right. And even enjoying my little trip very much up to now, though we shall see what the future holds for me.

Yours,  
RG


	13. 25 May, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're not in love but you're still silly with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is an Australia.

25 May, 2019  
Language: English

Kyle, 

I am in Morocco! The climates and environments are not exactly comparable, but I must admit that the heat in the middle of the day makes me think about sitting on the ground outside your house with a beer in hand. I assure you that my heart needs no warming in this desert, but it does bring me a certain measure of comfort when I allow myself to want it. 

When my mind turns to sharing a beer with you I must also allow myself to be amused at the times we have shared. I think about Halls Creek, the great expanses of red dirt that stained my skin and my hair. Oh, the sights you showed me! The crater, the massive rocks protruding from the earth, the wall of quartz! I adored every moment I spent out there with you, staring at the sky. I have never seen so many stars so I suppose even if I wanted to I could not complain about how much time I spent on my back. 

I am afraid I have digressed. Morocco is beautiful in its own right, though frankly the fact that I am thinking of you often makes me a little melancholy. I got a terrible sunburn on the back of my neck and my shoulders two days ago and no one to rub aloe on it, so now I look like a ridiculous pink little starfish which I have no doubt you would find deeply amusing. 

Enclosed in this letter as I am sure you have seen are some polaroid pictures of my asshole, among other things. I wish you luck in your endeavors and a boring sex life and I will, as ever, pray for your health and safety.

Yours,

RG

P.S. I am kidding about the sex life. Also, call me some time. These two are unrelated; I would just like to see you again some time this decade.


End file.
